


Daddy's Little Girl pt.1

by regina_cordibus_vestris



Series: Daddy's Little Girl [1]
Category: Actor RPF, British Actor RPF
Genre: F/M, mob!tom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-03
Updated: 2018-07-03
Packaged: 2019-06-04 17:07:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,861
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15151742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/regina_cordibus_vestris/pseuds/regina_cordibus_vestris
Summary: Your family name is associated with crime and death across Europe. Your father is the most powerful man in Europe. Your entire life you’ve been trained as a first class spy. But when Your father sends you into the arms of the most dangerous man in the United Kingdom, whose side do you pick? Is blood really thicker than water? Or will the misguided trust of a criminal lure you in?





	Daddy's Little Girl pt.1

**Author's Note:**

> I dedicate this part to Soph for making me believe in my idea and for suggesting AO3. Keep doing what you do Soph <3  
> Love, Tigris
> 
> This is my first ever AU. I used to write Wattpad fanfiction, but now I've seen the light!  
> I know it sounds odd but i find myself looking at Tom as a character rather than a person, if there is a detail that i haven't got right, this might be why. However please inform me if i have made a mistake! (that includes grammar<3 )
> 
> Like the Reader in this story, I am Danish. My choice of words might therefore seem a bit odd from time to time, I apologize!
> 
> There are passages with danish in them, I have written the translation in cursive afterwards. Please tell me if this works or not!

You were wearing you favorite pair of heels. You had a lot of heels but this pair was your favorite. The heel itself was a gold-titanium alloy, very fancy, and very strong. It was a stiletto heel and it made a high pitched, sharp noise when it hit the stone flooring in your house.

Well, house wouldn’t be the right word. It was an old castle that your grandfather had bought back when housing was cheap. He had then renovated the interior, but kept things like the beautiful stone floor, a dark polished gray. Frijsenborg castle had been the family home ever since. It wasn’t too big of a castle it had a couple of stories and two wings, north and south, connected by an eastern main part. This way, the castle would watch the sun rise every morning.

 Right now, you were walking down the corridor of the second floor in the north wing, listening to the sound of your heels against the floor.  15 cm of metal heel, this piece of footwear, had the potential of a murder weapon. Well, no. it was a murder weapon.

At the end of the hall you were met by a set of polished oak double doors, flanked by two young men. You put on a stern business face; you only ever got called to this room when daddy had a job.  You wondered whether it had something to do with the rented car outside. It was a black sports car that you had never seen before. You knocked twice on the double door and heard your father’s voice telling you to enter.

You opened up the door. The room was dimly lit. The sun had left the windows of this room hours ago. The yellow toned chandelier and the desk lamp were the only two light sources. Your father’s large mahogany desk was facing you. The wall to the right was covered in shelves with what appeared to be hundreds of leather bound books. You, however, knew better, they were hiding an uncountable amount of folders, every single one about a person, organized by family. On the other wall were cabinets some with glass so that you could see the interior, mostly expensive liquor and crystal glasses. Between the desk and yourself were placed two antique chairs. One of which were empty. The other was occupied by a young man with brown curls.

Your father waved his hand, and you moved to sit. The guest looked at you, taking in your appearance as you sat down. You didn’t return his gaze. Instead, you focused your attention on your father.

“This is Thomas Holland, sukker mus.” Your father said. Using the same pet name for you as he did, when he needed you to do something he knew you didn’t want to. It was Danish; it meant sugar mouse, sort of like the American honey. “Tom, this is my daughter Y/N.”

“hvad vil du ha mig til far? Er han et job?” _what do you want me to do dad? Is he a job?_   You said looking straight into those pale blue eyes.

“nej sukker mus, lad mig tale ud” _no honey, just let me finish_

Your father took a deep breath, looked at you apologetically then looked at Tom and continued.

“You see Tom, my daughter here is starting university after the summer holiday, and she will be in need of security and a place to stay. Which of cause is why you are here, see, you owe me, and my daughter will be moving to England to begin her studies soon-“

You cut him off at this.

“hva’ fuck?! Det var ikk’ aftalen daddy! Aftalen var at jeg skulle bo nede i latinerkvateret, jeg skulle gå på Århus universitet, sammen med mine venner! Det har du altid sagt! Eller var det bare endnu en af dine fucking løgne?” _what the fuck?!_ _That wasn’t the deal daddy! The deal was that I would live in Latinerkvateret, I was gonna attend Aarhus university with my friends! You always said so! Or was that just another one of your fucking lies?_

Tom had no clue what you just said, but you didn’t need to speak Danish to know that you weren’t pleased.

“nu holder du din kæft unge dame og gør hvad jeg siger. Jeg bestemmer i den her familie, og hvis jeg vil ha’ at du skal være i England, så tager du fucking til England uden at stille spørgsmål!” _shut your mouth young lady and do as I say._ _I’m in charge in this family, and if I want you in England, you fucking go to England no questions asked!_

You leaned back in your chair. You wanted to rip his fucking head off. The only problem was that the men outside the door were loyal to daddy, not you.

You were an only child. And everyone knew from the start, that you weren’t going to inherit any part of your daddy’s business. Daddy would never trust you with that. The only trust you ever got was with one mission at a time.

Daddy was a big time crime boss. His territory stretched over the entirety of Scandinavia and all the way down into Germany including Berlin. Central Europe was mostly under the control of your uncle Michael and the western coast including the Netherlands all the way down to, but not including, Spain were controlled by your cousin Tim. Your family even stretched as far as Canada, having a huge part surrounding Toronto under the control of your other cousin, Samuel. The long term plan was for Tim to inherit Europe while his brother Samuel established himself in North America.

You were brought up in this world too, but you were never primed for leadership. Your talents lay elsewhere.

You felt tears sting at the corners of your eyes, frustrated by the lack of power and control you held over your own life.

“What exactly is it you want me to do?” Tom asked in a slightly boyish voice. He was feeling out of place with the small argument that had taken place in front of him. After all, he had no clue what had been said.

“I want you to keep her safe when she’s at Oxford. You live fairly close by, don’t you?” daddy said enjoying how confused Tom looked. He spoke again practically spelling it out for Tom. “I want her to move into your estate, boy.”

Tom clenched his jaw at the last word.

“So what do I get in return?” Tom said through gritted teeth.

“Peace over the channel, I suspect” you laughed slightly melodramatic. You were aware of who Thomas Holland were.

Newly appointed leader of the largest crime rig in England, his territory spread over the UK. Not nearly as large an area as daddy’s though very much in the spotlight. While your father, uncle and cousins mainly did their work behind the scenes, the Hollands were a different story. Their name would of cause never be associated with anything bad, but they did enjoy the limelight a bit more than you relatives. You had only met the Danish royal family once, well, a certain prince twice, but the Hollands had meetings with the Queen of England multiple times and were often seen walking in and out of number 10 Downing Street. Everyone knew who they were.

“I don’t have power over the channel, but my nephew does, and I can put in a good word.” Daddy said.

“Not good enough” Tom responded immediately.

“I suspected that.” Daddy smiled. “You need to remember, I Control the Oresund and most of the Baltic Sea. And with my family on the other side of the channel, you cannot reach neither Russia nor the rest of Europe without running into the name Y/L/N.”

Tom was stumped at this. He knew it was true. He had had to make countless deals with the Y/L/Ns and his father had gone through the same shit before Tom. He could potentially save millions by making a deal here. And what difference did it make? From where he was sitting, you were a submissive little Danish girl who wasn’t gonna do shit, just four years at university and he wouldn’t have to worry about you ever again.

Daddy knew he had the young man under his thumb. If Tom didn’t make the deal, he’d be in serious trouble later on. Europe was closing keeping England shut out. But Tom could prevent that. He just had to make a deal.

You listened quietly to the two men negotiating the terms for the next four years of your life. You fought to keep your breath steady thinking ‘hundreds of years of fighting for equality and I still don’t have a say in my future.’

-

As you walked out of the room later in the day, you produced a hipflask from one of your pockets.

You were walking down the hallway the sound of your heels echoing through the building.

As you walked down the stairs to the hall you noticed another young man you hadn’t seen before. This one had blue eyes almost as pale as your fathers. You didn’t even bother to hide the hipflask; you just took a long needed swig whilst locking eyes with the stranger. His eyes followed you as you turned and walked down another hallway this time headed to the south wing. You let the burning taste of anise linger in your mouth.

-

Two days later, your things had been packed. You told some of your closest friends that you had changed your mind and was going to Oxford instead. Olivia, Alex and William all came to help you pack. These where the ones you were supposed to spend your time at university with these three were your friends. None of them knew exactly what your father did; they just knew he was a rich son of a bitch. They saw it in your eyes the second you opened the door to your room for them. You began to cry letting the tears fall and your friends hold you. They didn’t ask any questions. They just made you calm down and helped you pack.

All your things had been carried out and put in a car. You took your leather handbag and swung the strap over your shoulder. You were wearing a pair of black Christian Louboutin ankle boots with stiletto heel. Your long hair was in a braid down your back.

You walked down the hallway to find your parents both waiting for you in the hall. Your mother was wearing a deep plum lipstick and shoos to match. Your father was wearing a tie in the same shade. You didn’t get the memo.

You hugged your mother then your father... then back to your mother one last time.

“My Rapunzel” she whispered, and let a hand slide down your braid.

You immediately let go and turned away from her. You then stepped out of Frijsenborg castle to find a limousine with black tinted windows. The door was open and revealed black leather seats.

You didn’t look back at your parents; you just stepped inside and sat down closing the door after you. Tom was in here. You thought he’d be in England already. The stranger with the blue eyes from two days ago was here as well.

“This is Harrison.” Tom said waving his left hand at the blue eyed man.

“The sidekick” you smiled.

“Partner” Harrison grimaced.

“Second in command” Tom corrected.

You sat with a smile as sweet as sugar plastered to your face with your hands in your lap, palms up.

-

Half an hour later, you were walking onto the runway towards Tom’s private plane, your loose baby hairs flying about in the wind.

The two boys sat down opposite each other, you sat on the other side of the isle.

The plane had just taken off when the sidekick Harrison noticed.

“What happened to your hands?” he asked you.

“Nothing” you said in a quiet voice hiding your hands beneath the table.

Harrison sent Tom a look then said: “Your knuckles are bruised.”

“You should wear gloves next time Y/L/N” Tom said.

“It doesn’t feel the same with gloves.” You whispered, then continued louder “And please don’t call me that in the future, Y/N will suffice”

Tom looked at you.

“It’s your name, don’t you like it? It holds great power”

“It’s a name associated with criminals and murderous not to mention the sexist bastards who won’t let me have a say in my own god damn-“ You cut yourself off, taking a deep breath. Then leaned back in your seat and looked out the window at the clouds.

You heard one of the boys stand up, walk away then come back.

You only looked up when a crystal glass was sat down in front of you with a deep golden liquid inside. Harrison sat down in front of you.

“Or do you prefer the hipflask?” he asked.

You didn’t answer.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea Haz” Tom said eyeing the glass.

You looked straight into Tom’s dark eyes, took the glass and downed it, not even flinching.

Harrison just chuckled whilst Tom send you a slightly confused look.

You faked a blush and put that sweet as sugar smile back on your face.

“My friends and I started binge drinking at parties when I was 13.” You said looking down. “I can handle my liquor.”

-

45 minutes later you landed, after that you were driven to the Holland estate.

This place wasn’t like your home.

This was essentially a large ass house whilst yours really were a castle.

Admittedly, though, it was larger than Frijsenborg castle, but that didn’t surprise you. A young man like Tom probably had _something_ to compensate for. You were given a room in the southern part. There was a beautiful queen sized four poster bed with a red silk comforter.

Harrison had showed you up here.

You placed your bag on a stool, then spun around and asked: “so where can I go to train?”

“basement.” He answered. “remember the gloves Rapunzel”

“Not today Robin” you said as you quietly closed the door on the blue eyes that so eerily reminded you of your fathers.

Rapunzel. Well _that’s_ original.

You saw that your boxes of things had already been carried up, so you started searching for your gym clothes. Your braid fell over your shoulder hanging down into your field of vision.

True you did have long hair, but not _that_ long really. Not Rapunzel long anyway. Besides you always hated the thought of your hair being the defining characteristic. Really, people should call you Mulan or Black widow. You were not one to wait around in a tower for some guy to come help you, you were a fighter.

-

You had been in the gym for hours pounding away on anything you could get your hands on. You even convinced one of the security guards to spare with you.

You now sat at the kitchen island with a bowl of strawberries with milk and sugar in front of you. It made you think of home. Taking Olivia, Alex and William out to your family holiday cottage, getting hammered and stealing strawberries from the farm next door.

Tom walked in. He observed you for a moment noticing how happy you looked; there was a slight sparkle in your eye. He then furrowed his eyebrows.

“I have two questions.” He stated. “First of, what on earth are you eating, second of, I thought we agreed on gloves”

“No. _you_ agreed on gloves.” You said pointing your spoon at him. “And I’m eating strawberries with milk”

“Y/N, strawberries aren’t cereal… you don’t eat them with milk”

“Danes do”

“Danes are odd.”

“That is true.”

He took your hand examining the damage and noticed that the bruises had now been accompanied by small wounds.

“At least put some ice on it” he said.

“Why do you care?” you asked.

 “Because there’s an event tomorrow evening that I want you to attend. I want people to think I have a closer relationship with the Y/L/Ns than I actually do” he told you “And I don’t want people to know, you’re a fiery bitch who talks back, even to her father”

“You don’t know anything about me.” You whisper.

“so you’re not a fiery bitch who talks back, even to her father, and spends her spare time beating up God knows what without using gloves, because she like the pain”

You close your fists, the tightening of the skin made the previously closed wounds spring open.

“Let’s make a deal” you say through gritted teeth. “I go to your event, socializing, and tell everyone how great you are, I’ll even hide my bruises - If you please just let me get my frustration out and let me be until I’ve accepted defeat”

“Accepted defeat?” he asked.

You didn’t answer, there was one word swirling around in your mind.

_Rapunzel._

-


End file.
